My Phoenix
by darkestharmony
Summary: Claire is having strange dreams regarding Sylar and her having a relationship. Sylar has obtained a new power that lets him manipulate the dreams of others. Sylar/Claire.
1. i

A/N: Spoilers for 3x03 "One Of Us, One Of Them" (only mentions of the spoiler). I do not own "Heroes" or the characters, nor do I pretend to. I'm simply borrowing them, and will return them in a timely manner. WARNING: Dark themes. Also posted on my heroes LJ, heroesfan86.

---

_"You're my phoenix," Sylar's voice sends shivers down Claire's body. She stares up at him, the cold air from outside blowing over her body. She was dressed in shorts and a long sleeved shirt. "My beautiful little phoenix."_

Claire wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to beat his brains out, but she can't. Once his lips touch hers, the age difference between them doesn't matter. Once his arms wrap around her fragile, shaking body, their pasts don't matter. Nothing mattered but the here and now and when Claire arched her back as Sylar ran a finger down her back, she realized that this was what she wanted. This was who she wanted.

Her and Sylar were perfect for each other in her mind, their imperfections balancing each other out so that they seemed almost normal. She could easily ignore his need to kill and concentrate on how they connected, how they were so similar yet so different. She wanted him in her life always, as a lover she met in secrecy.

Her father definitely wouldn't approve of him marrying her, which made him all the more attractive. She wanted to disobey her father. She didn't want to be perfectly normal anymore, she wanted danger, lots and lots of danger.  
  
Claire woke up quickly and jumped out of her bed, hitting her wall in the process. She ran down the hallway, jumped down the stairs, and barely made it outside before she puked out her dinner. She was nobody's phoenix, and definitely not Sylar's. Sylar didn't own anything about her.

_"My beautiful little phoenix."_

She shivered as she remembered the touch of Sylar's finger against her skin. It was warm, almost loving, definitely nothing like Sylar. She hated Sylar, so why was she having these erotic nightmares about him, the man who tried to kill her twice?

She didn't look up as her father came running for her, calling out her name as he wrapped his robe around his body. He didn't have his glasses on.

"Claire, what's wrong?" he asked. Claire stood up, wiped her mouth, and went inside silently. She cried in silence as well, feeling like she had been violated. She ignored her father's questions as she walked back up to her room and shut the door.

She didn't see the man in her closet, watching her with brown eyes filled with lust. He was silent, watching her curse him and punch her pillows out of anger.

Sylar liked this new power of his.

He had read somewhere that dreams could deeply affect a person's life, and he found this entertaining. He could break Claire, make her weep and beg for the dreams to stop to a Higher Being. He liked the power he had over her now.


	2. ii

_'Dear Claire, you're so beautiful when you cry. It makes me want to make you weep harder so that your beauty will remain forever etched in my mind. Shame that we cannot discuss this in detail, for this letter is the product of a dream which, if I remember correctly, is a wish that your heart makes._

Thank you, Claire. You make me feel loved.'

Claire pursed her lips and sighed. Her eyes closed and a small smile happened upon her face. She folded the note in half and sat on the edge of her bed, staring out the window with a look of longing on her face.

She knew Sylar had written it days ago - the note had been folded in half so many times the crease was beginning to wear away - but she was hoping that he would take her away that very night. Her long golden hair was tied back and her naked, petite frame was covered by a blanket. She was waiting for him, though she knew deep down inside that she wouldn't have to wait long.

She must have fallen asleep, for the next thing that she saw was Sylar's face hovering above her own, a wicked smile on his face. Nothing was more beautiful to her and she latched onto him, never wanting to let go.

Sylar gently laid her back on the bed, his hands running along her body. He stared deep in her half-closed eyes and she murmured strange vowels to him. She moaned as he ran a hand up and down her inner thigh. He put a finger over her mouth.

"Shh, Daddy will hear us," he whispered to her, slowly getting off of her. He stripped down and pulled a condom out of his pocket. Claire moaned softly, her whole body shivering as he came closer.

His brown eyes locked onto her green eyes. They were warm, yet dangerous. She loved them.

Sylar climbed back on the bed and over her body, the heat of their bodies under the blanket canceling the cold air that came in through the open window. He gave her sensual kisses, kisses that made her moan in his mouth and try to pull him in closer. He overpowered her and kept his distance.

"Not yet," Sylar said. "I want to enjoy this, my little phoenix."

Claire woke up on the floor face-down, her legs sprawled on the ground with the blanket. She didn't have to look up to see that it was still well into the night. Shaking, she tried to get back in her bed.

She collapsed holding onto the edge of the bed, crying as quietly as she could. She didn't want these dreams anymore - she just wanted to have normal dreams. She had no idea what her dreams meant or why she remembered every ridiculous little detail days after she had them.

"Stop this," Claire said to herself, climbing up on the bed and curling up with her teddy bears. Ever since these dreams started, she confided in them like she used to when she was scared of the dark. She used to tell them of the imaginary monsters that lived in the closet, waiting for her to fall asleep before they played with her toys. Now she told them of a real monster she was having sex with in her dreams.

It didn't make it easier to deal with. She wanted to tell somebody who could stop it, but she didn't know if she could ever trust somebody with her dreams. She was afraid that she'd end up an insomniac, or break down and try everything possible to kill herself. Maybe she'd seek out Sylar and beg for him to kill her.

"Now there's an idea," Claire said to her bears bitterly, then relayed her ideas to them. The sad thing was she looked at them like they actually knew the answer but were withholding it just so that they could have some function instead of collecting dust in the closet.  
_  
Thank you, Claire. You make me feel loved. _

Claire held the largest teddy bear she had, crying into its chest until her eyes burned. She didn't know why this was happening to her now, when her life was finally getting into some form of normality.

Sylar watched her with a tilted head in the closet. Curiosity shone in his eyes as she mumbled words that didn't make sense into the teddy bear's chest. He could use this to his advantage, make the dreams seem more real. He wanted her broken when they finally meet when she wakes up, so broken she wouldn't protest to him taking her away.

After that… well, he didn't know if he wanted to love her or kill her. All he knew was that he wanted her broken, because that was the only time the real Claire showed instead of the happy-go-lucky Claire that masqueraded around the household from seven to eleven on a good day.

In a way, Sylar was helping her find her true self. When she was scared, angry, or confused, she always showed her true self, if just for a moment. He loved it, the strong, fierce yet misunderstood Claire. When she was finally broken, Sylar would help her put the pieces back in the right place and unleash his creation upon the world.

He'd show everyone who the real monster was, keeping the real Claire locked away in a castle for a Prince Charming such as himself to rescue her.


	3. iii

"This is the last time," Claire said quietly. "I'm getting to the bottom of this." She was speaking to herself in the mirror, though the person she saw did not match the person she remembered herself to be. Her hair was in a messy ponytail that did not quite get all of her hair and her eyes had dark circles around them. She looked like a completely different girl.

Well, woman, really. She was eighteen but felt much younger. She was afraid of sleeping, but she fell asleep every night and greeted in her dreams by Sylar. They were getting worse now; there was more physical contact between them, more lingering touches, more things that she didn't want to ever happen between them. She hated it.

She was going to ask her father if there was anybody with powers who could interpret dreams, or reach into her subconscious and tell her exactly why she was having these dreams. It seemed like the only shot she had now.

While she was lost in her thoughts, the day was beginning, the sunshine slowly making its way across her room. She brushed out her hair slowly, almost mechanically, with a defeated and somewhat dead look in her eyes.

Her father had not seen her in four days; she wondered what he would say when he saw her like this. Her mother had to have said something about it - Claire blamed it on the stress for finals - and Lyle constantly commented on her new appearance. "Grunge just isn't your style, sis," was his most recent one.

A knock at her bedroom door made her put the brush down and stare at herself one last time before her father called her name through the door. He didn't call like usual, but the knock came again, this time quieter, as if the knocker did not want to wake anybody up but knew Claire was awake.

Her father knew her too well. She had gotten up to open the door when the knock came again, but she realized now that it was coming from her closet. She had two options. First, she could be a complete idiot like the girls she saw all the time in horror movies and go check the closet alone and with no weapon, or second, she could run downstairs, get a knife, and wait for the knocker to come down after her.

She chose the second option but right before she reached the top stair step, somebody had grabbed her by her hair and clamped a hand over her mouth. She looked back, glaring at Lyle. She had no idea when he had come into her room, but she suspected it had been when she was lost in her thoughts. She bit hard and kicked at Lyle, beginning to cry.

The relief soaring through her body made her heart beat faster.

"Lyle, you're such a -" She could not finish screaming at him. Their father poked his head out of the room, a tired look on his face.

"Lyle, Claire, keep it down," he said. "It's Saturday morning."

"Okay," Lyle said and Noah went back inside his room. Claire punched him as hard as she could, disgust by what he had done. Lyle grabbed her by the arms, an apologetic look on his face.

"Claire, geez, calm down, I was only kidding around," he said. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"No," Claire said, tears running down her face. "Why did you do that?" She tried to punch him but he held her arms too far away from him.

"I couldn't sleep," Lyle said.

"So you decided to scare the crap out of me by knocking on my closet door?" Claire asked. Lyle gave her a confused look.

"What?" Lyle asked. "I never did that. I heard it but figured you were moving something in your closet." He let her go and watched her run to her room, nearly slamming into the door on her way in.

Her room looked exactly like it did when she had left. She opened her closet, coming face to face with her clothes. Nothing about them was changed. Turning to the window, she saw that nothing there was off either. The curtains were apart, framing the window like they had earlier.

She sat down on her bed, running her hands through her hair to get it all off her face. She buried her face in her hands, trying to calm herself down. Somebody had definitely been in there, as Lyle and she had both heard the knocks.

"It could have been mice," Lyle said from the doorway. Claire looked up at him.

"Yeah, maybe," Claire said. She did not believe it, but she had no reason to think otherwise. All she had to go on were dreams that she did not know were her doing or not.

Nothing made sense anymore. She wanted Sylar out of her life forever now - he had done nothing but ruin it since they first met.

Lyle left to go downstairs. Claire could hear him open the fridge and looked back down at her hands, fatigue burning her eyes. She laid her head down and closed her eyes.

--  
_"Wake up, Claire."_

Sylar's voice made her moan in delight. Warm arms wrapped around her, pulling her up to a sitting position. She opened her eyes and smiled when she saw his face. Her heart beat quicker when his hand made its way up her dress, traveling along her thighs. She loved it when he did that, when he turned her into a blushing schoolgirl with the man of her dreams.

"I like waking up to this," Claire said with a smile on her face. He smiled back up at her, his brown eyes making contact with hers. She pushed him off and stood up, stumbling slightly on the floor that was littered with books. She smiled smugly.

"That hard?" He nodded, putting on a shirt. He was already dressed while she was in the same dress she had been in the night she came over, though it was considerably dirtier than it had originally been. Good thing she brought a change of clothes.

He left while she was changing and came back in after she put on jeans. She picked his shirt up off the floor and put it on, the hem of it going to her mid-thighs.

"You look nice," he said, handing her a cup of coffee. She took it gladly and looked out of the window, a distant smile on her face. Queens looked nice in the summer morning. He watched her, drinking his own cup of coffee.

"I think it's time," she said. Sylar smiled.

"Great," he said, getting up and putting his cup between the pillows on the bed. Claire put her cup down and turned to him, her face excited but anxious.

"You sure you won't mind this shirt getting a little messy?" Claire asked, looking down at it. He shook his head.

"I have another one just like it," he said. "Now, this will only hurt for a moment, then you should be free from this life."

Claire smiled as he cut her head open.  


"Claire!"

Her breathing was wild as she came back to reality. She could feel the adrenaline in her veins as her father continued to shake her awake. She was on her floor, she realized numbly. When she opened her eyes, she saw her father looking down at her in concern. Her face and neck were wet.

"It was just a dream, baby," he said, pulling her up into his arms and hugging her tightly. "It wasn't real." Claire just blinked a few times, the last of the tears making their way out. Her throat was raw and burned, as if she had been screaming her heart out.

She probably did, considering the dream she had.

"Dad," she said in a raw voice.

"Baby, it's okay," he said. She wondered what kinds of things she had screamed, if she had screamed his name or not.

"I'm sorry," Claire said. "I know it's early and -" Noah held her by her upper arms, staring into her eyes with all the seriousness he had. Claire felt her stomach flutter with butterflies.

"Claire, can you tell me what happened?" Noah asked. "Can you tell me why you killed yourself?" It was then that she paid more attention to her surroundings and realized that the room she was in was not her bedroom but the morgue. She remembered the last time she was in a morgue with a shudder.

"I... what?" Claire asked. She blinked again.

"We found you on your floor, bleeding from your forehead," Noah said. "You smashed your head into your mirror and ran your head across it - you can't remember anything?" Claire shook her head, her eyes full of tears that did not want to fall.

"I went to sleep, that's all I remember," Claire said. Noah handed her an orange dress that she had worn all the time the summer before she found out about her powers. He turned around while she slipped it on and helped her off the autopsy slab.

"Your mother and Lyle will not remember what happened," Noah said as they walked out of the morgue. "You need to tell me what's going on." Claire bit her lip.

"I've... been having some strange dreams," Claire said. "I was wondering if... if there was somebody who could interpret my dreams. Somebody who really could, somebody with the power to do something like that."

"Claire, many people could argue that they know how," Noah said. "But there is somebody that we've been meaning to look into. Sylar and I will have to check her out, provided she's still at the address listed in her file." Claire stopped walking, horror clearly written on her face.

"Sylar?" Claire asked in a small voice. "You're... working with him?" Noah turned to her.

"Just to keep an eye on him," Noah said. "We're partners now."

"Partners," Claire said, once again walking with him but more slowly now. "When were you going to tell me?"

"Later rather than sooner," Noah said. "Don't worry." He put an arm around her shoulder. "I'll make sure he won't hurt you. I promise." He smiled down at her, ignorant to the fact that his promise was broken long before he made it.

---

Sylar liked to watch her. She was so fragile, both on the outside and on the inside. She was an indestructible kind of fragile, but fragile nonetheless. Every time she tossed and turned in her bed, he was there, watching and waiting, feeding her the dream. She didn't suspect a thing, neither did her father.

They were partners. It seemed strange, that he would be partners with somebody who had every reason in the world to kill him.

Stretched out on the bed in the hotel, Sylar stared up, making the candles dance in the air with his powers. There was nothing to do - it was raining hard and would continue to do so for the rest of the day - and he didn't see a reason to be anywhere at the moment.

His mind wandered to Claire, his victim. He couldn't wait for the time to come when she would seek him out, enraged, confused, and broken. She was strong and would remain so; that was the kind of girl she was. The kind of girl he loved. Strong, independent, beautiful, intelligent; she appeared to be naïve to the way things were but she and Sylar both knew that she wasn't.

Claire was complex, even without her power. He knew she only wanted to be normal and even without her power she would never be that way. He could certainly help her be normal, if he got close to that Haitian. He could take away her powers, make her normal again. She wouldn't love him for it - he didn't want her to. Love was too fickle and fragile an emotion for his liking, though it certainly suited Claire and her damaged heart.

No, he wanted something deeper, something more. The something he felt with Elle, but he wouldn't make the same mistakes this time. He couldn't, really. Killing Claire is impossible; physically, at least.

Now he knew that she was looking for an explanation, and he would be going to Bennet's house in two days to look for the man that he stole his latest power from. Too bad he was melted in a junkyard. His ex-wife would never find him, wouldn't have a body for their kids to bury. Sylar only felt a little remorse.

Remorse was a constant emotion now. He didn't know why but suspected that he was somehow developing a conscience.


End file.
